


Come Away With Me

by raidelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Feels, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other VLD Characters Make Appearances, Titanic References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raidelle/pseuds/raidelle
Summary: It's been two years.Two years since that fateful day, when the RMS Titanic set sail and Keith stepped foot on deck, with just his sketchbook and charcoals in his satchel, his dreams in his head, and hope in his heart.Two years since Keith’s life changed. Forever.Keith knows, deep in his soul, that Takashi Shirogane is still alive.Keith just has to find him.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this isn't a religious re-creation of the 1997 Titanic movie, but rather inspired by it. I cherry-picked details both from the movie and the show to suit the narrative of this story, so please don't be surprised if something isn't exactly the same. y(^ｰ^)y
> 
> Also, when you see the hard return / line break like below, it signals a change in time period from past to present.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> Finally, this story is a work in progress. I already have the rest of the chapters done, just polishing some bits and rewriting a few parts. I'll post the next chapter soon (like, less than 24 hours after this one) but after that, I'll be updating this every 2 weeks.

  
  


It's been two years.

Two years since that fateful day, when the RMS Titanic set sail and Keith stepped foot on deck, with just his sketchbook and charcoals in his satchel, his dreams in his head, and hope in his heart.

Two years since Keith’s life changed. Forever.

He could still feel the bone-deep cold and the grain of the wood under his cheek and his icy, wrinkled fingertips.

He could still feel warm fingers tucking stray locks behind his ear, and even warmer lips pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

Such a fucking gentleman he was. He is, Keith corrects himself. Because Keith knows, deep in his soul, that Takashi Shirogane is still alive.

Keith just has to find him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Keith took a deep breath, savoring the bite of the cool, salty air in his nose and filling his lungs. It was a stroke of luck that he, Lance, and Hunk had won that game of poker against James Griffin, who’d groused at the loss but kept his word. He’d finagled them three last-minute third class tickets to the RMS Titanic, slapped their pool money into Hunk’s hand, and then shooed them away with a salute. “Bon voyage, assholes!”

That had been three hours ago. Now, Keith was on the deck of the ship and enjoying the late morning sun and breeze. He’d left Lance and Hunk to explore belowdecks, their excited voices still echoing in his ears. “New beginnings, Keith! New beginnings!” Lance had crowed at him.

Keith couldn’t agree more. Life in Garrison City was unkind, especially to an orphan with foreign heritage to boot. But that was neither here nor there. He was now aboard RMS Titanic, on his way to Daibazaal where his father said Keith’s mother was from. He didn’t have any particular fondness for the place; he’d never been there, never been to anywhere else in the world, really, but he’s ready to make a life for himself after years and years of merely scraping by in the streets.

With a sigh, Keith shook his head to clear it of his maudlin thoughts, and went back to his sketchbook. He glanced down at the makings of his drawing, a rendering of the horizon from over the side railings of the ship. The sky was a crystal-clear blue, the water a deep navy, and he felt a tiny pang of regret that he didn’t have enough money to buy even the cheapest colored pencils. He chose to add some wispy clouds to the picture with a few quick strokes of his charcoal stick, instead. 

He looked back up again to see if there were any more details he could add, and frowned. A man, who had not been there just a few seconds ago, was leaning against the railings. He was nearly bent at the waist, which told Keith he wasn’t there to sightsee.

“Hey,” Keith called out. “You’re not planning on jumping overboard or anything, are you?”

It was comical, the way the man flinched, removing his hands from the railing like he’d been burned and leaping a good foot away from the edge of the ship. “Um… no?”

Keith snorted. He closed his sketchbook, placed it inside his satchel, and walked over to the stranger. “You don’t sound so sure.”

“Well,” the man hedged. He blew a breath that made his inky fringe flutter, then braced his arms on the railings. His pose is now a little more relaxed, more contemplative than on-the-edge. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?”

Gray eyes flicked to Keith then back to the horizon. “I guess.”

Keith gave the man a quick once-over. Dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, narrow waist. Finely cut suit, the color slightly faded. Perfectly tied silk tie. Well-worn but polished leather shoes. If he had to guess, Keith would take a stab at “born rich, now riddled with debt and looking for a way out.”

“My name’s Keith,” he finally said after a long stretch of silence, broken only by the hum of the waves.

“Just Keith?”

Keith snorted at that. “Keith Kogane,” he said. After a pause, he added, “You’re from Plaht, aren’t you?”

The man smiled a small smile. “What gave it away?”

“You’re all so obsessed with names and titles.”

“If it makes any difference to you, I don’t have a title,” the man shrugged. He kept his eyes trained on the horizon, his thoughts seemingly far away. “What I do have is a heritage name and two generations’ worth of household debt.”

“Oh.” Right on the money then, Keith thought. There were a lot of things the streets of Garrison City taught him, honing his skills in observation and deduction among them.

The man heaved a deep breath as he stood to his full height, tugged his suit jacket straight, and offered a hand to shake, “I’m Takashi Shirogane,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, Takashi,” Keith replied. “Good thing you didn’t jump, huh?”

“Please call me Shiro. And thank you for saving me.”

Keith grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“There you are, Takashi.”

They turned as one to face the newcomer: tall, dark, and handsome, clad in a suit finer than Shiro’s and spectacles glinting atop his nose. Considerably richer than Shiro, then, perhaps a potential business partner or an angel investor.

“Hello, Adam.”

“I’ve been looking for you for quite a while,” Adam said.

“I just… needed some air.”

Adam pursed his lips at that. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Keith cleared his throat. It was obvious that Adam was one of the reasons behind Shiro’s distress and Keith didn’t want to bear witness to any more awkward exchanges. “I uh, I gotta go. My friends are uh… waiting for me below. It was really nice talking to you, Shiro.”

“‘Shiro?’” Adam echoed, vexed. “I’m sorry but who are you?”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “I’m Keith.”

“Keith…?” Adam trailed off. His eyes took in the clean but worn shirt, the fraying suspenders clipped to serviceable brown corduroys, and scuffed boots.

Keith bristled at the scrutiny. “Does it matter?” he scoffed.

“Adam, this is Keith Kogane,” Shiro said, stopping Adam’s attempt at a reply. “He… saved me from a bit of trouble earlier. Keith, this is Adam Wakefield. He’s uh…”

“I’m his fiance,” Adam supplied, then immediately turned back to Shiro. “He _saved_ you, Takashi? What sort of trouble?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Adam. Everything’s fine.”

“Is that right?”

Keith remained silent, although he thumbed at his nose in a gesture of belligerent pride. Fiance, huh? He’d never have thought.

Adam stared at him for a second longer before he cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, Mr. Kogane. I suppose we —”

“Keith. Mr. Kogane was my father.”

“Yes, well, I suppose we ought to give you a reward. A small token of thanks for saving my fiance.”

Shiro’s eyebrows knitted, his unease with the exchange unseen by Adam.

Keith scoffed. “I don’t need a reward.”

“Of course,” Adam said, tone dismissive. “But surely you —”

“How about this,” Shiro finally intervened. He placed a hand on Adam’s arm in an attempt to soothe, although his eyes remained on Keith. “Keith, would you join us tonight? We’ll be having dinner to um, formalize the engagement. You can come as my guest.”

“Takashi —” Adam began, his tone admonishing.

“Adam, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Keith. He saved me, remember?”

“I just did what any other person would have done, really,” Keith shrugged. A dinner party in first class? He was already counting the ways he’s going to embarrass himself, not to mention the amount of small talk he’d be forced to make.

“Will you come?” Shiro asked.

Oh dear gods. Keith didn’t expect the persuasive power of those eyes, colored a deep gray, like a brewing storm. “I… I, um…”

“Please?” Shiro pouted, honest to God pouted, at him.

Jesus. Keith had to look away; that look was lethal. “I… don’t have anything to wear,” he said although it sounded like a question to his own ears.

“I’ll take care of it,” Shiro said.

“I…”

“Please?” Shiro said again, his eyes impossibly large.

“I…” Keith was finding it harder and harder to say no. “Oh, fine. Okay.”

“Alright,” Adam interjected. “That’s settled, then. We really must go back, Takashi. You had everyone worried.”

“Let’s meet back here at five o’clock?” Shiro called over his shoulder as Adam led him away.

“Oh… um, okay,” Keith said with a little wave that Shiro didn’t see.

Stars, what did he just get himself into?  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith joins Shiro for a celebration dinner in first class. Shiro joins Keith in a party down in third class.
> 
> And Keith, stars above, comes to a crashing realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second chapter! I hope you enjoy reading. :)
> 
> This is a bit longer than the previous chapter, mostly because I couldn't bear to delete some of the details I've written. ^^;
> 
> I also updated the tags just to be sure. ^_^

  
  
Keith has been in New Altea for seven months now, the longest he’s ever stayed in one location since disembarking from the RMS Carpathia. The cruise ship had rescued more than seven hundred of the Titanic’s two thousand passengers; Keith, who’s reasonably good with numbers, had thought there was a fair probability that Shiro had been among the survivors aboard.

He wasn’t. Keith got his hopes up when he’d bumped into both Hunk and Lance, shaking in cold and terror. (“Keith! Keith, you’re okay!” Hunk had sobbed into his shoulders as Lance patted his back.)

After the tearful, shivery reunion, Keith had singled out the ship’s crew member going around with the copy passenger manifest; he’d thought it better to follow her trail instead of walking around on his own. His heart sank when she didn’t come upon Shiro; nevertheless, he’d swallowed the lump in his throat and draw up enough courage to ask: “Is a ‘Takashi Shirogane’ on there?”

She’d smiled at him sadly, then. “No. There are hundreds of names here but that’s a unique one and I’m sure I’d remember it. I’m sorry.”

So instead Keith had asked if she knew nearby places where other boats and ships could possibly drop off survivors. The kind-eyed woman had four places for him: Olkarion, Taujeer, Naxzela, Arus.

Keith had visited them all, stayed for three or four months in each, always searching, searching, searching, and finding nothing.

New Altea is last on Keith’s list. It was the RMS Carpathia’s original destination although two years ago he had stayed only long enough to gather supplies and such to begin looking for Shiro.

When all of his searches proved fruitless, he came back to New Altea. In truth, he found himself drawn to the country. He believes something led him here, a cosmic energy or maybe destiny, and is now telling him to look. To stay.

So he stayed. For seven months now, nearing eight, actually, long enough that he’s built some sort of semblance of an existence. He earns a decent enough living selling sketches and drawing portraits. He’s even taught himself how to read.

It’s not the life he’s dreamed for himself but it was… adequate. When he’d boarded the Titanic, he’d planned on hopping off on Daibazaal, one of the cruise ship’s many stops, and perhaps find his mother there. She was from a small town called Marmora, his father had said. They never did talk about her much but his father had also never confirmed nor denied that she had passed on, so Keith had thought it a good idea to take his chances.

It’s evident now that Fate had planned other things for him.

Keith Kogane was meant to win that poker game, meant to get those tickets, meant to be on that ship that God himself could not sink but sunk anyway, because he was meant to cross paths with Takashi Shirogane. He was meant to dine and dance with the man, touch him, kiss him, love him, so that he may know how it feels to hold the other half of his soul in his arms. Even just for a little while.

Fate is cruel.

Keith sighs as he looks over the breakwater, along the boulevard where he usually sets up to work, and towards the pink-and-orange sky setting the sea aflame. Stars, he’s tired. He’s tired but he can’t stop searching until he’s found Shiro again. Seen his face, heard his voice, held his hand, and kissed his lips just one more time.

His heart aches with feeble hope and desperate yearning that nearly choke the breath out of his lungs.  
  


* * *

  
  
Shiro had been waiting for him at the deck later that afternoon.

Truth be told, Keith was nervous. He’d never spent a minute around nobility and the rich (except for that time when he was sixteen and had pilfered the pockets of a man who’d wolf-whistled at one of Keith’s fellow street rats).

He was nervous but he couldn’t have resisted; Shiro was incredibly magnetic and Keith was drawn to his orbit as soon as he’d told Keith his name.

“Hey.”

Shiro turned, as if in slow motion (Jesus, what a cliche, Keith thought), and his eyes widened. “You’re here!” he exclaimed.

“You sound surprised,” Keith replied. He tried to inject as much confidence as he could in his stroll before stopping an arm’s length away from Shiro. He gazed out into the sea, into the pink-tinged sky that heralded the sunset.

“I wasn’t really expecting you’d come,” Shiro shrugged.

He had never reneged on his words, not once. Keith felt an even stronger compulsion to keep his promises to Shiro, no matter how few he’d make in the surely limited time they’d have together on this ship.

“Right, well. Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Shiro agreed. “Let’s go, then?”

“Sure.”

Shiro led the way towards the first-class cabins, filling the silence with mindless chatter. Some guests looked at Keith in open curiosity, some in askance, and Keith thought Shiro was trying to distract him from the unwanted, unpleasant attention.

“Do you have any color preferences?”

“I don’t know. Black, I guess,” Keith said. He didn’t have a lot of clothes and the few he owned were black or some other dark shade that hid stains well.

Shiro nodded. “I don’t think any of my clothes will fit you, but I do think you and my best friend are of similar size. Matt is fond of green, though.”

“Right.”

“Do you like green?”

“Not really,” Keith replied.

“Hmm. Well, I’m sure we’ll find something,” Shiro told him. “Here we are.”

He opened the door to a suite and called, “Matt? We’re here.”

A young man, tall and slender with long, light brown hair tied in a low ponytail, poked his head from around the door of what seemed to be a bedroom. “Hey,” he said with a playful salute.

“Matt, this is Keith Kogane. Keith, this is Matthew Holt.”

“Ah, it’s nice to finally put a face to the man who saved our Takashi!” Matt said cheerfully. He stepped out of the bedroom and grabbed Keith’s hand in both of his own in an energetic shake.

Keith looked alarmed at Matt’s enthusiasm. “I didn’t —”

“You did,” Shiro said with a quiet smile. He laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder, the warmth and weight of it as calming as it was disconcerting. Then he turned to his friend, “Don’t scare him away, Matt.”

“Alright, alright” Matt said, properly chastised but still amiable. “Now shoo! I’ll take care of your lovely friend while you get ready.”

“But I thought…”

Matt shushed him with a wave of his hand. “You’re in safe hands, Keith. I promise I don’t bite,” he said with a wink. Then he turned to Shiro, “Go away, Shiro. The master needs enough space to work his magic!”

Shiro laughed and raised his hands, “I’m going, I’m going.”

Once the door had closed behind Shiro, Matt gave Keith his full attention. Hands at his hips and eyes narrowed, he gave Keith an assessing gaze. “Are you going to tell what really happened?”

Keith didn’t have to ask what Matt was talking about. “What did he say to you?” he said instead.

“Only that you stopped him from doing something extremely stupid.”

A rush of relief flooded through Keith’s system. “It’s not my story to tell,” he said.

Matt nodded, his golden eyes approving. It felt to Keith as if he’d passed some sort of test. “What do you think about blue?” Matt asked him instead.

“Um,” Keith blinked. “I guess it’s alright.”

“Well, I’m more of a green guy myself,” Matt nodded at him again, coming to a decision. “Or maybe orange. I think you’ll look good in red, though.”

“If you say so,” Keith shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never had um… I don’t really…” He cleared his throat and looked away.

Matt smiled at him, kind and thoughtful. “Why don’t you take shower while I pick out a few things you might like, huh? Here, I’ll show you where everything is.”

Keith was never one to turn down a generous offer, so took the longest shower he’d ever had since he’d been orphaned. The most fragrant one, too, what with all the soaps and oils and shampoos that Matt has in this small but lavish bathroom.

He picked up a bottle of something light golden yellow and took a sniff. It was woody and rich, with a hint of a flowery scent that was almost restorative. With a shrug, he poured some of the liquid onto his palm and proceeded to scrub his body. He might as well take advantage, he thought. Who knew when he’d have another chance like this?

When his fingers began to prune, Keith decided he’d showered long enough. He turned off the taps and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist then hung another one around his neck.

Matt looked over his shoulder when he heard the bathroom door open and close, “Oh, there you are. Good. I luckily packed a few red dress shirts and vests, so you’ll have your pick of — what?”

Keith laughed nervously. “It’s not like I know what to wear to a formal dinner,” he explained. He suddenly wished he had pockets to hide his fidgeting; he curled his toes in the plush carpet instead, hoping Matt didn’t notice.

“Shiro made a few suggestions so maybe we can go with those. Is that alright with you?” Matt asked.

Keith only nodded, grateful.

“Okay then,” Matt said brightly. “Let’s do this.”

An hour later, Matt was leading Keith along a carpeted hallway that led to the grand ballroom of the Titanic.

“So, uh, what am I supposed to do? Just… eat?”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “Eat, drink, be merry, and all that.”

“Okay. And uh… where am I going to sit?”

“I asked Katie—she’s my little sister—to reserve a seat for you beside her,” Matt said. “She’s nice, if a little inquisitive. And she can teach you which forks to use and all that,” he added.

“Okay. That’s…” Keith tried not to let his disappointment show. “That’s good, I guess.”

Matt laughed good naturedly, noticing his expression. “If it’ll make you feel better, I heard Shiro arguing with Adam earlier regarding the seating plan.”

“Oh, uh… no, no. He didn’t have to— I mean, I don’t— I mean, they’re, um…”

Matt laughed again. “Shiro has a protective streak a mile wide,” he said. “If he’s already decided he’s going to take care of you, he’s going to find a way to do it no matter what.”

“I can take care of myself,” Keith grumbled.

“You know what I mean,” Matt said, elbowing him lightly. Keith found that he didn’t mind the gesture, despite being particular about who touches him and how. Matt was friendly enough but not overbearing, and not at all condescending. Not like… well, not like Adam.

Keith was broken out of his musings when Matt stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Here we are,” Matt told him unnecessarily. “Ready?”

Keith gulped and nodded.

Matt whispered to the attendant standing by the double doors, who nodded and led them through a short foyer, which ended in another set of double doors.

“They really want to keep people out, don’t they?”

Matt shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?”

Another attendant opened the doors for them, and then they were in the ballroom.

Keith’s eyes widened at the overt lavishness and grandeur of the expansive space. They were atop a sweeping polished-wood staircase, with a dining area and a sectioned-off dance floor below them. The chandeliers overhead were dripping with crystals, the walls painted a pearly white and inlaid with intricately carved wooden panels. Dark hardwood gleamed underfoot, the tables were draped in silky white cloths, and the tinkle of priceless silverware and china almost drowned the music coming from the four-piece band in the far corner.

“Wow,” Keith muttered. “Uh, so, what’re we… should we just walk down there? Where are they, anyway?” He couldn’t spot Shiro from the crowd of well-dressed, well-heeled men and women.

“Here,” replied Matt. Then he grinned wickedly at Keith before puckering his lips to let out a sharp whistle.

“What the hell?” Keith laughed, his nervousness easing a little, as they made their way down the staircase. It worked, though. Almost everyone in the room swiveled their heads toward them (the ladies were looking especially scandalized); more importantly, Shiro himself stood up to meet them halfway.

“If you must know,” Matt muttered conspiratorially, “Shiro taught me how to do that.”

“Really?”

Matt nodded happily. “Hello, Shiro,” he said as they reached his best friend. “What do you think, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and gestured toward Keith, who stood rooted to the spot. Without waiting for a reply, Matt skipped toward the long oval table where a woman who looked very much like his mother was waiting with a fond but exasperated smile.

“Hey, Matt,” Shiro said belatedly, distractedly. “Hello, Keith.”

“Hi,” Keith replied. He self-consciously tucked a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. He thought his braid was neat enough (he used some of Matt’s pomade), but a few strands still managed to escape the plait.

“You look um, really, um… nice. Red is… it suits you.”

“Thanks, I guess. You too. You look… you look good.” Shiro’s deep gray suit made his eyes stand out, like the sky before a storm. He was struck by a sudden, fierce desire to capture Shiro’s likeness in a drawing.

“Thank you. Shall we?”

“Okay.”

Keith was half expecting for Shiro to offer him his arm; instead, Shiro placed a hand at the small of his back to guide him. He felt himself blush at the gesture, and Keith was suddenly thankful that Shiro was slightly behind and couldn’t see his face.

Shiro cleared his throat as they reached the table and paused, as if he were waiting for something to happen. After a few tense seconds, he sighed and began introductions.

“Everyone, this is Keith Kogane. Keith, you’ve already met Adam. These are Daniel and Evelyn Wakefield, Adam’s parents; Hideo and Yumi Shirogane, my parents; and Matthew, Katherine, Samuel, and Colleen Holt, who are dear friends of my family.”

“Um,” Keith mumbled, looking down at the floor and then back up at the small assembly. “Hello. Good, um… good evening.”

“Have a seat, darling,” Colleen said blithely, waving at the chair between her and her daughter. “They’ve already served the hors d’oeuvre and soup but the appetizers and salads are coming in a short while, I believe.”

Keith just blinked at Colleen and Shiro snuffed a little laugh. “Here, Keith. Please sit down,” he said and pulled out the chair. He waited until Keith had settled before sitting back down beside Adam at the head of the table.

“Hi,” Katherine smiled (grinned, really) at him. “Please call me Pidge.” She held out a hand for a quick but energetic shake so reminiscent of her brother’s.

“How exactly did Katherine become Pidge?” Keith said, genuinely curious.

“Pigeons,” she replied and Keith could have sworn her eyeglasses glinted with manic excitement.

He wasn’t sure what his expression had been, but Pidge rushed to explain, “Oh no, no, no, no. Gods, I wasn’t— I was just trying to understand magnetoreception and how homing pigeons were able to come back to their nests, right? And, well, it ended really um… badly—”

“About fifty pigeons somehow thought Katie was their mother by the end of her ‘experiment,’” Shiro butted in with a chuckle.

“Shut up, Shiro. It’s not as if you didn’t enable me as much as Matt did,” Pidge grumbled and stuck her tongue out at him. “Anyway, so Matt gave me the nickname ‘Pigeon’ which eventually turned into ‘Pidge.’”

Keith laughed. “I would have paid to have seen that.”

Pidge stuck out her tongue at him, too.

“Now, now, Katie. Be nice,” Samuel chided his daughter.

“What brought you aboard the Titanic, Keith?” Colleen inquired politely, even as she started piling dinner rolls, a slab of butter, and slices of cheese on Keith’s plate.

“Um,” Keith blinked down at his plate and turned questioning eyes to Pidge, whose only answer was a small ‘go ahead’ smile. “Well, um, my friends and I um, acquired last-minute tickets from another um… someone. I don’t know what my two friends are planning because we didn’t really um… expect to get the tickets. But as for me, I’m not completing the cruise. I’m going to Daibazaal when we stop over there.”

“Oh, Daibazaal. Such an… interesting place. A little provincial,” Evelyn said. “What are you planning to do there? It’s not a tourist hotspot, that’s for sure.”

“My mother’s from Daibazaal,” Keith said stiffly.

“Ah. Of course.” Evelyn looked away and took a sip of her water.

“Hmm,” Samuel nodded. “Well at least that explains your eyes.”

“My eyes, sir?”

“Purple eyes are quite rare and most of my wife’s research have traced that specific genetic origin in a small town called Marmora in Daibazaal.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. I’ve been studying that particular subject for years,” Colleen responded. “Now eat, eat!” She had already buttered two rolls for him.

“Ah, um…” Keith glanced at Pidge, Matt, and Shiro in turn, all of whom nodded at him in reply. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The evening went on, to Keith’s extreme relief, without too many awkward conversations. Pidge asked him what his interests were and he replied with a simple “I draw.” To that, Yumi said, “Do you do portraits? If you do, then you ought to do one of Takashi. Maybe you can get him to sit still for more than a few minutes!”

“Mother!” Shiro complained, but Yumi only giggled at her son. “Oh Takashi,” she said, patting his hand consolingly.

“I’d be honored to make his portrait, ma’am,” Keith said after the laughter died down; Shiro gave him a smile, then, something small but genuine that sent a flock of butterflies fluttering in Keith’s stomach.

Colleen, on the other hand, seemed determined to feed him everything that arrived at the table. He didn’t recognize most of the dishes that she kept piling on his plate, but he dug in with enthusiasm nevertheless (Pidge pointed at the correct fork and told him the name of each dish to help him along).

All the while, he kept stealing glances at Shiro. He looked happy, Keith supposed, in a quiet sort of way. He smiled a lot at his parents, teased Pidge relentlessly, and shared stories of his misadventures with Matt (which made Hideo shake his head in theatrical disapproval and Daniel press his lips in obvious displeasure). Shiro was also particularly attentive to Adam, although Adam himself was a little reserved. He smiled and laughed, all very polite, and Keith couldn’t help but wonder, “How do Shiro and Adam know each other?”

He whispered the question as subtly as he could to Pidge, who shrugged as she answered, “They went to school together. Adam was a year ahead of Matt and Shiro.”

“Oh, okay.” He threw another glance at Shiro, who, to his surprise, caught his glance and smiled shyly back.

After what Keith felt like hours and hours, the dinner came to a close with a champagne toast from Daniel. “To Shiro and Adam,” he said, nodding at his son and soon-to-be son-in-law. The rest of the table echoed him, raising their flutes as one. “May your union be long and auspicious.”

Not happy? Keith thought. He’d gathered that it was a marriage of convenience, but couldn’t Adam’s father have wished his child some happiness? Keith pursed his lips and pretended to take a sip of the sparkling drink.

“Oh thank God that’s over,” Pidge groaned as everyone around the table shook hands and exchanged good nights.

“Katherine!” Colleen chastised, though it was half-hearted at best.

“You know I don’t like wearing dresses, Mom,” Pidge grumped.

Keith let the pair of them bicker; he let his eyes stray instead to Shiro, who caught him looking and gave him a quick, apologetic smile. He raised his hand as if to tell him “Wait a moment,” and Keith nodded. He wasn’t planning on leaving until he’d said good night, anyway.

After a quick discussion with Adam, Shiro finally made his way to Keith at the other end of the table. “Sorry about that. Adam wanted to… well, um, anyway.” He scratched the back of his head, looking and sounding uncertain as he said, “I hope you enjoyed dinner.”

“Surprisingly enough, I did. Thank you for inviting me.”

“That’s good,” Shiro smiled that small, shy smile again.

“It was fun talking to Pidge. She’s nice,” Keith said. He didn’t know why but he felt the need to reassure Shiro that he’d made the right decision to ask Keith to join them tonight. “Mr. and Mrs. Holt were also very kind to me. Mrs. Holt made sure I ate everything and I think my stomach’s about to burst, actually.”

“She does it to me, too, whenever I visit the Holts,” Shiro said with a little laugh.

“Matt was really nice, too. With the suit and everything.” He gestured at his clothes and then frowned. “Should I return this to him tonight? I can run back below and change.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. We can um… meet tomorrow morning again at the deck? You can bring it, then.”

“Alright, sure,” Keith agreed easily.

“So, um…”

“Yeah?”

Keith looked at Shiro then, really _looked_ for the first time tonight, bathed under the glow of the chandeliers. He was breathtaking like this, warm and golden, and Keith was struck again by that intense desire to preserve Shiro’s beauty as best he could on paper.

“I was just… I don’t want to say good night yet,” Shiro confessed. “Would you like to maybe have a drink with me at the bar?”

Keith grinned. “I can do you one better.”

He all but dragged Shiro down to third class, where an uproarious party was already in full swing at the communal hall. A crowd was gathered in the center of the space, dancing to an upbeat melody played by a ragtag band on a makeshift stage. The air was thick with the sounds of revelry and the scent of sweat, smoke, and alcohol, and Keith watched in delight as a smile slowly lit up Shiro’s face.

“Wow!” Shiro’s exclamation was drowned out by the raucous laughter and chatter.

Keith grinned and grabbed Shiro’s hand and began squeezing through the throng, leading them to a booth in the far corner. “Hey, Hunk!”

“Hey, Keith!” Hunk passed him an ice-cold bottle of beer. “Who’s your friend? Is he drinking, too?”

“This is Shiro!” Keith almost yelled, “Shiro, this is Hunk!”

“Nice to meet you, Hunk” Shiro said with a little wave.

“You want a beer, Shiro?”

“Sure.”

They settled on two of the five rickety bar stools surrounding the booth, watching the crowd get rowdier and rowdier by the minute. Shiro’s smile kept growing impossibly larger and Keith couldn’t help his own responding grin.

He was down to his last gulp of beer when Lance emerged from the rabble, sweaty from dancing and with one girl each clinging to his arms. “Hey, mullet boy! What’re you doing here? Thought you’d still be schmoozin’ it up with the fancy crowd in first class!”

Keith glanced at Shiro, who just smiled at him and shrugged. “It got a little too fancy,” he said and pulled one long and final drink from his beer. “This is Shiro, by the way. Shiro, this is Lance.”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, Lance.”

“These are Nyma and Plaxum.”

“Hello, ladies,” Shiro said with a smile and the women giggled, obviously tipsy.

“Well, what are you doing still sitting there?” Lance crowed. “Get off your butts and go dancing! This is a party and you should be partying!”

“Yeah, Keith!” Hunk was nodding enthusiastically. “Show Shiro what a true blue Garrison-style party’s like!”

“This isn’t showing him already?” Keith gestured to the dance floor as he asked, tone sarcastic but he was smiling all the same.

“You know what we mean,” Hunk laughed while Lance said, “Showing is different from _showing_ , idiot.”

Keith snorted. “Ready to party, Shiro?”

“Yeah!” was the enthusiastic reply. He downed the rest of his beer in one huge gulp.

“Get comfortable, then,” Keith said with a grin as he shrugged off his coat, whipped off his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He motioned for Shiro to do the same. Fortunately, he did so without complaint or question.

“You’ll be sweating buckets in a minute,” Hunk agreed, “I’ll take care of your stuff, don’t worry.” He gathered their coats and ties, folding them carefully and stuffing them under the booth.

“C’mon, old timer. Let’s dance!”

“Old timer?” Shiro said in outrage, even as he let himself be dragged to the middle of the dance floor. “I’m only twenty-five, you know!”

“Show me what you got, then!”

As if on cue, the band struck a lively jazz tune. Shiro grinned and pulled Keith into a Lindy Hop.

Keith laughed and went along, hopping and swinging as Shiro led him around. The rest of the crowd danced along with them, orbiting their small bubble of space. The way Shiro’s eyes stayed on Keith all the while, though, he felt as if they were the only people in the room.

The music switched to a more upbeat tempo, and Shiro transitioned them smoothly into a Shag. “Old timer, huh?” Shiro’s grin sparkled under the lights as they bounced to the beat. He spun Keith in a tight turn and Keith couldn’t help the laughter from bubbling up his throat.

God, he’s even more beautiful like this, Keith thought, as he gazed at Shiro, hair plastered to his forehead, lips curved in a gorgeous smile, eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed.

Keith’s heart beat triple-time, both in exertion and a crashing realization. Stars above, he’ll do anything and everything to keep Takashi Shirogane happy like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are very much welcome. :)
> 
> You can find me on Twitter @raidelle.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (P.S. Heads up that the rating WILL change in the following chapter.)

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Kudos and comments are very much welcome. :)
> 
> You can find me on Twitter @raidelle3573.  
> Thank you for reading!


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